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So You Said That I Was Done

It’s like, endless whispers in you ears. Piercing your eardrums every second. Causing your heart to skip, and freezing your brain. That’s what it feels like. Every single second.

Every second is filled with racing cars on a highway. Crowded and fast paced. Crazy and uncontrollable. Why?

Wouldn’t we all love an answer. “Too bad”, the brain says.
It tells me to suffer. It tells me to cry enough to fill the parched rivers. Let the flowers grow with you waterfalls. Let the storms brew with your ecstatic breath. And lay beneath the dirt in your nice warm bed and look at what you’ve created. A deathly masterpiece. You’re done. Just a museum now.